


A little bit of trouble

by AnOddSock



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Blood Loss, Crack, Fainting, Gen, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, I'm fairly sure this isn't medically accurate but Witcher's make do, Innuendo, Minor Injuries, Partial Nudity, Short One Shot, snake venom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23742172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnOddSock/pseuds/AnOddSock
Summary: Jaskier doesn't mean to get himself into these kind of scrapes, it just seems tohappen. Still, he's handling it pretty well thank you very much, as long as he doesn't have to move.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 66





	A little bit of trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Discord conversations got me writing Witcher crack fic...

Jaskier turns on the spot when he hears footsteps approaching the campsite, which is no small feat with the agony that shoots through his leg as he shifts his weight.

“Ah, good, you’re back,” he says, addressing the Geralt-shaped fuzzy blob that he assumes is Geralt himself. “I may have got into a _little_ bit of trouble while you were gone.”

“You're bleeding,” Geralt says, dropping the firewood.

“That would be the trouble.”

If his brief glimpse as it slithered away was anything to go by, his “little bit of trouble” was actually several feet long with a very angry face and four very sharp fangs. At least he assumes it had an angry face, he didn’t really get to see it, what with it being _underneath_ him.

“You sat. On a snake?” Geralt asks in a tight voice, when he explains.

Geralt’s irritation is not masked at _all_ , which Jaskier thinks is a little rude when he’s bleeding from the buttock. Or, just below the buttock. Maybe, he’s not sure; it’s all very painful, and he hopes one day it will be a funny story but right now he would really like to sit down, actually, only he can’t because of aforementioned buttock injury.

“Yes, well, I’ve sat on plenty of _snakes_ in my time you know Geralt, though that usually brings up an entirely different kind of problem, if you know what I—”

“Now is not the time, Jaskier!”

He pushes away from the tree that he momentarily forgets is doing most of the work of keeping him upright, “Oh contraire, there is always time for… for… uh. No, actually, I do feel a little unwell…”

He hears Geralt mutter _fuck_ as he tumbles headlong into arms that are, inexplicably, right where he needs them to be—between his face and the ground. And then he’s aware of nothing at all for what feels like a long span of time, but can’t be more than a few seconds as he’s lowered carefully onto his stomach and Geralt hums in concentration.

He hears his breeches rip around the same time he feels cold air hit his skin from ankle to thigh and sighs because this was his best pair of trousers and now he’s going to be one leg short. The cold feels good though, because his leg feels so _hot._

“Damn you bard, you couldn’t have sat on a snake that wasn’t venomous?”

He wants to make some quip back, but he can’t get his tongue to listen to reason and not flop heavily around his mouth like a limp fish. Not that it matters, because Geralt’s also-very-hot mouth clamps onto the crease of his thigh where it meets his buttock and _sucks._ And he can’t think of anything else at all after that. It’s just intense pressure and suckling noises, and the inviting black that keeps creeping across his vision.

He comes to later, laid on his side, swaddled in a blanket feeling much less fuzzy and very much alive if the ache in his leg has anything to say about it. Which it does— it has a lot to say and it’s saying it very angrily and very loudly. Geralt is washing his mouth out, spitting blood soaked water onto the ground several feet away. There’s a pool of red saliva and blood where Jaskier fell down, right by the tree, and he can’t stop looking at it. 

“How much of my blood did you suction out of my body?” he asks, groggily.

“I had to get the venom out. You’re welcome, by the way.”

He hums, and feels around his backside. He winces at the touch, but it is less swollen than before. “Did you get it all?”

“Enough. I assume.”

“Right. Good.”

Geralt grunts again and swipes a hand across his mouth that comes away less bloody than the last time. Jaskier lays in a haze, somewhat dazed, too warm and comfortable to be _too_ embarrassed, now that Geralt has built up the fire and the immediate peril is over. Except—

“Did I at least faint in a manly way?”

“You swooned. Like a damsel.”

“Ah. Perhaps we shall keep this tale just between us then. Unless you’d like to tell people you kissed my ass, that is.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my first attempt at fic in this fandom, I hope it was enjoyable. Comments and kudos are always a welcome encouragement!


End file.
